


Subcon's Sirens

by TidbitsAndThoughts



Category: A Hat in Time (Video Game)
Genre: Emotional Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, I'll keep adding characters as it goes, Implied Physical Abuse, Mild Blood, mermaid au, siren au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-09
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 01:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 17,989
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26907541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TidbitsAndThoughts/pseuds/TidbitsAndThoughts
Summary: When Subcon Kingdom's prince and princess find themselves swallowed by the sea and their own heartbreak, sirens haunt the waters. But, maybe the sirens aren't all bad. After all, one rescues Hat and Bow from a shipwreck...Here's my spin on a good old mermaid AU! Please enjoy!
Comments: 23
Kudos: 93





	1. Cracks in the Sea and Sky

She threw herself into the sea. Furious. Choking on sobs. Blond hair as radiant as the sun whipped around her and her green dress billowed. She aimed for the jagged rocks below the cliff, knowing nothing could pierce her like the pain in her heart. Her anguish called out like a chime and the line where the sky met the sea glittered in response. The tide surged as she dropped and caught her safely. Only her skirt tore on a rock weathered to a point.

But then salt water flooded her.

Lungs filled with ocean. Tendrils of sea dove into her chest, thrusting through her cleaved heart. She might have cried out in fear, but her voice was locked into place. Ribbons of water wrapped around her throbbing chest as she sank. Her torn heart rose to her throat and her voice entwined with heartbreak in the same fashion as her legs entwined with each other.

Her teeth sharpened and her spine curled as ashen green fins emerged from her back. The water thrust her lower as skin sharpened into scales. Fingers webbed together as nails lengthened into claws. Betrayal ate at her and the ocean filled in the cracks with insatiable thirst. Her blood ran cold and tendrils of ice laced through the water. Ears stretched and she could not hear the cries on the cliff above. The water dunked her further under.

“Vanessa!” Luka called, panting as he searched the stretch of grass shifting in the wind. His chestnut curls whipped around his tight features. Hadn’t he seen her come this way? “Vanessa!” He called again, briefly scanning the frothing waves slamming into the edge of the cliff. Not even a shred of green or blond could be seen among that dark blue and he shook his head, scolding himself. 

“She knows to be careful here,” he reminded, turning away from the cliff and clutching the bouquet of lilacs and lilies he intended for his princess. “She’s at the manor,” he stated, willing it to be true, as he took off down the hill.

But he couldn’t shake the fear gripping his chest.

Much like the princess in the waves couldn’t shake the ache gripping hers. 

*

The prince and the kingdom searched. Their waterlocked Subcon had no place to flee to. Yet they found no trace of the beloved princess. Some suggested she had unwittingly walked into a faerie ring in the woods. Some worried she had been swept away by the sea but it had been a clear, sunny day when she disappeared and they could not imagine how she could have been caught unawares in the waves. One person had joked that maybe she succumbed to the sea in heartbreak like in the legends, but upon seeing the prince’s crestfallen features, they assured him that couldn’t be it.

Everyone knew the prince and princess loved each other very much.

But Luka couldn’t help but worry he was somehow to blame.

*

The sea struck Subcon port in a rush of hail and unbridled torrents. The fishing vessel that had been out, expecting clear weather, never returned. The prince hurried to send support to wounded families and began studying weather patterns to better serve his people. But the storms were unpredictable and came in surges of ice and destruction.

Then came one survivor, tormented and trembling on the beach.

“ _Her voice,”_ he repeated as he was dragged to the manor and placed in front of the fireplace. The prince and Vanessa’s servants tended to the man, desperate to calm him down enough to find out what happened.

_Her voice. Her voice. Her. Voice._

“Whose voice?” Luka asked, kneeling by the man who clutched the plush blanket with pale-as-death fingers.

“The siren with the crown,” the man whispered in a daze, his glassy eyes wide as he lunged forward and gripped the prince’s collar. “Let me go back. She was singing to me.”

The prince felt his heart leap to his throat as the servants whispered behind him.

“It couldn’t be the princess.”

“But the crown…”

“What has the prince done?”

“Sirens? They eat souls. What will we do?”

Luka pulled back, gently prying the man’s hands from his collar as he stood. The man continued pathetic pleas to let him return to the siren.

_Her voice. Her **voice**. _

“Please, excuse me.” Luka dipped his head apologetically to those in the room. They all stared at him, their eyes swimming with caution and he felt them trying to figure out whether to pass judgement or withhold it.

“Where are you going?” Catherine, the cook, asked as she emerged from the kitchen with a steaming bowl of soup.

“Library,” he answered, smile plastered on his lips. He didn’t offer further comment as he disappeared down the hall.

He lit a candle at the desk and grabbed book after book. Reading about legends of the ocean which changed broken hearts into bringers of destruction. Records of persons who caught their lovers cheating or beloved ones grieving lost sailors filled the books, relaying how the sirens would continue drowning humans until the one who broke their heart was found. But none of it lined up.

Why would Vanessa’s heart be broken? What had he done to hurt her?

If she did become a siren, how could they change her back?

As the night stretched on and the full moon rose overhead, Luka read. He didn’t notice the commotion outside. He didn’t hear the mob collect by the library door until Catherine had screamed for him to run. He jumped up, knocking the candle over and getting melted wax on his hand. The flame flickered out as he hissed. The door burst open.

“We’re sorry about this, Prince.” The baker came forward, torch in hand.

“We have to protect the kingdom.” One of the sea captains scowled.

“What are you talking about?” Luka’s voice wavered as he shook the burning drops of wax away. “What is this about?”

“You hurt the princess.”

“The siren is after you.”

“We have to give you to her.”

“No, wait.” Luka backed into the table as he held his injured hand to his chest. “Please, I wouldn’t ever hurt Vanessa.” His voice cracked. He would never hurt her, why didn’t they understand?

A voice nagged in the back of his head. _What if I did hurt her? What aren’t I understanding?_

They advanced into the library, cornering him.

“Our princess is gone, and a siren is killing our people.”

“It’s your fault.”

“That’s the only explanation.”

“It’s your fault and you have to pay.”

“Please, wait,” Luka jolted as both biceps were grabbed, and he found himself lifted. He kicked his legs and tried to twist out of their iron-like grasps. “Please, I didn’t—Don’t you know how much I miss her?” Tears slipped from his eyes and his voice cracked with desperation.

They dragged him outside and towards the cliff. He kicked and screamed, begging, pleading, his case. Let them find evidence. Let them search the manor. Let them do anything to prove his guilt! At least if they found something he would know too! But to let him die before he knew what he did wrong—surely, he didn’t deserve that.

_Did I?_

The pale light of the moon shone as the mob stood at the edge of the cliff overlooking the rocks. The two holding his arms tightened their grip and pushed him towards the edge. His boots struggled to find footing, kicking clods of dirt and grass into the foaming waves below.

A chill laced the air.

“Please,” Luka felt his chest squeeze as he looked to the faces of the people he loved, the people he called family and friends. They refused to catch his golden irises, ridged determination on their features.

“We’re sorry.” The grips on his arms released and a hand shoved his back.

The prince yelped as he plummeted into the deep.

Icy hands caught him.

The mob watched a black tail skim the surface, glinting a dark green in the moonlight, before the prince disappeared completely. The chill set into their bones. But it was too late to bring him back.

*

Luka only felt cold and only saw shadow as he was dragged through the sea. He tried to hold his breath but when he and the figure clutching him jerked around a corner, he lost his only oxygen in a gasp. He struggled, trying to wriggle away and towards air but the figure held him tightly before pushing him upwards.

He broke through the surface, coughing up sea water as his lungs burned and his body shivered. His arms flailed, trying to find something to grab onto, but a shove from below tossed him onto a nearby rock. Groaning, he blinked against the dark.

From the various shades of shadows and the drip and slosh of water, he gathered he was in a cave of some sort. The pool in the center must have been the only way in and the only way out. Breath hitching, he jolted back when a pair of glowing red lights rose from the pool.

“Wh—” Luka’s teeth chattered as the shadowy figure emerged, long, tangled hair in a massive mess around her round features. He pressed back against the wall as the figure pulled herself onto the rock with him, her webbed hands ending in claws and black fins jutting out from her elbows. Glowing red eyes burned into him as she leaned forward, her breath cold and reeking of fish. His eyes darted to the familiar silhouette of a crown caught amid the strands of hair. His princess’ crown.

“Va-Vanessa, is that you?” He whispered, his heart breaking when he saw what his love had become. “What happened, Princess?” He lifted a hand and she pressed her rough cheek into his palm, grinning with frightfully sharp looking teeth.

“Princess,” he cupped her face in his hands and leaned forward, resting his forehead against hers. “I’m so sorry.” A sob choked out as he leaned into her. Her flipper slapped against the water happily. “Was this my fault? I swear we’ll figure out how to fix this—we just need to—Ah!” She grabbed his wrists and he winced as her claws pierced his skin.

“Vanessa, that hurts,” he wheezed. Suddenly, water from the pool spiraled up and laced around his wrists. Following the curve of her claws, the water shifted as it solidified. Bracelets of ice wrapped around his wrists and he looked down, dumbfound as she let go of him to form chains connecting the bracelets to the wall.

“Wait!” He tried to pull away, but it was too late. Thick ice kept him tethered to the wall of the cave, which was slowly freezing from the chains.

“Hush, my prince.”

This time, he froze.

Captive by the sweetest sound he ever heard, he found it hard to concentrate as he turned, staring at the most beautiful creature in front of him. She let out a trail of giggles that popped in the small space like bubbles. He found himself going slack as he leaned towards her, holding her gaze.

“I’ve missed you, my prince,” she twittered, reaching out and twisting one of his chestnut curls between her fingers.

“Missed you, too,” he muttered. His thoughts felt like fog and she was the light, beckoning him forward. He tilted his head into her hand, and she cupped his cheek.

His heart felt drawn to her. Giddy like a lovesick fool, he wanted to know her and only her. What joy he felt, what bliss, looking to her bright red eyes as rich as rubies.

“You’re trembling.” Vanessa sat next to him, lifting her tail from the water and twisting it around his legs.

“You’re beautiful,” he breathed. Her long tail, black as night, might have held a dark green sheen if there was any light other than her red, pupil-less eyes. A translucent fin ran down the spine of her back and down her tail. Her flipper was made of the same material, and when it slapped against his lap, droplets of ice water flicked against his soaked tunic.

She giggled in response to his compliment, snuggling into his chest.

He ached, unable to wrap his arms around her.

“Now you’re far from the temptress and in my arms,” she cooed.

“T-temptress?” A coherent thought pushed through the fog and he wrinkled his nose, trying to remember. A sense of dread welled up, but he couldn’t understand why. What was he forgetting?

“That horrid florist trying to steal you away from me.”

Steal? He jerked back, frowning as anxiety worked to clear his mind and he remembered the urgency he had felt moments before. Florist?

He recalled… buying flowers the day Vanessa disappeared.

“Oh, Vanessa.” He became acutely aware of how violently he was shivering in the cold and how the sharp ice of the chains cut into his skin now that the enchantment of a siren’s voice was wearing off. “Vanessa, I never—Do you really think that—I’ve never talked to the florist outside of buying flowers for you.”

“Enough,” she hissed, and he blinked, dazed.

N-no. He could fight it.

“Please, Love.” His tongue felt thick as he inwardly reminded himself that this was not her. While her voice was as fluid as water in this form and it left him yearning for it like the moon yearns for the touch of the sea, it was not hers. This was not his princess.

But surely, she was in there, somewhere.

“Vanessa, I want us to go home, together.”

“We’ll stay,” she ordered, and the sound drew the fight from him.

“Stay,” he repeated, feeling his head fill with fog despite a distant… waning… protest in the back of his head.

She began humming a song and the music filled his chest, numbing all feeling save for tranquil adulation for his princess.

He remained numb, as long as she hummed or sweet lyrics dripped from her lips. He remained numb to the ice. He remained numb to the trembling. He remained numb to the tears that crusted into ice on his cheeks. And he remained numb to the heart in his chest, shattering.

Neither the mermaid nor her prince could see the glint that skipped on the horizon.

*

Vanessa left to eat a few times and each time; the siren song eventually faded from Luka’s thoughts enough to give him clarity. But every time the liminal fog that lingered before his thoughts became his own left him in agony, desperate for the high of her voice. He writhed against chains. He tried to hook his boots against the edge of the pool and pull himself into the water to follow her into the depths. Every time he snapped out of it, he instantly felt the ice and recoiled from the wall and pool, huddling into his legs as best as he could. Every time he tried to ignore the pain in his wrists.

Each time she came back, he begged her to listen to him, to understand he had always been hers. But each time she reacted angrily, slapping her tail against the water and gripping claws into his thighs. She hissed threats and even those were sweet enough to subdue him into submission. Numb once more, he felt bliss, whether she yelled at him or hurt him or leaned into him or apologized in tears. Numb, he would coo at and dote on and love her until she was satisfied. Each time she would leave soon after amends were made, and the cycle continued.

Until the tide came in.

He had experienced the regular flooding of high tide a few times. The water would rise to his waist and back down. But this time was different. It didn’t stop at his waist.

Vanessa had gone and he snapped out of the fog to find water lapping eagerly at his chest, pushing as if it wanted something inside. Immediate panic filled him, and he tried to scramble to his feet, but he slipped on the stone, slamming his cheek against the frosty wall. Blood burned as it dripped down and he wriggled back into a sitting position, leaning against the wall in defeat.

Holding out his hands, he scanned the strips of bruised and bloodied flesh on his wrists gashed time and time again by ice. The rising salt water stung but he felt too tired to care.

It reached his neck.

He blinked up at the curved ceiling. His eyes had adjusted a bit to the dark so he could trace the bumps in the rock and spot the one stalactite that always dripped. His chest felt heavy and his heart ached.

Water curled against his lips. He craned his neck back, unsure if he hoped the water would just take him or if he should try to live long enough to eventually escape.

It rose higher. He took one last breath and the water submerged him.

How long? How long would he need to wait? Water perched on his lips, ready to flow in. Air bubbles drifted from his nose. His chest constricted as his lungs waited. One second more, he repeated in his head. Keep trying.

_Why should I?_

The thought startled him, and he opened his mouth. Water replaced air and he choked.

His lungs filled with ocean.

And it burned. It burned as his chest felt like it was collapsing. Salt water wove between the shards of his heart and threaded them with his voice. He felt it, the embroidered sky in the sea, voice in heart, intertwined just like his legs were becoming.

Suspended, but chained to the wall, he writhed as water filled his body. Muffled sounds of splitting fabric mixed with the thrust of bubbles caused by his kicking. His boots and pants shred as his legs swelled and rich, dark purple scales flitted across his flesh like splotches of bruises. He cried out, thrashing as his legs pressed together and melted into one, solid tail. A lavender flipper grew, and similar fins sprouted from his long spine and biceps, tugging at his skin.

He grunted as his mouth ached from sharpening fangs. He felt his ears stretch into fins that stuck out of his chestnut locks. Sorrow stun in the corners of his eyes, but instead of tears, golden pearls dripped out painfully.

Finally, the water released its tight hold in his chest, and he lowered. His body burned from the transformation—or maybe the water had warmed him as a kindness—and the icy chains melted. The tide ebbed and set him down on the rock of the cave with a disgruntled groan.

“Ow,” He moaned, pushing himself up on trembling arms. He blinked, surprised by how it seemed brighter in the cave. Glancing around, he noticed the expanse of purple behind him and yelped.

He tried to scramble away but when the purple length followed and twitched when he willed his legs to move, a cold realization settled in the pit of his stomach.

“No,” he whispered and immediately winced, lifting his hand to his neck.

His voice. It was crisp and airy. Enticing like honey and weaponized like a poison. He thought about how tormented he felt just listening to Vanessa’s siren voice.

And now he would do the same to any human who heard him speak or hum or sing.

A gasp tore through his chest and he covered his mouth, trying fruitlessly to hold back sobs as golden pearls dropped from his eyes. The pearls plinked against the stone. That was it then. He was no longer human, changed by his sorrow and heartache, much like Vanessa.

Vanessa.

He snapped to attention, realizing he had to leave before she found him. Glancing from the pool to his tail, he bit his lip, only to draw blood with his razor-sharp fangs. He released his lip with a yelp that transitioned into a frustrated groan.

Frustration building, he dove into the pool and followed the winding tunnel. He descended deeper and deeper, his glowing eyes lighting the way. He ignored the throbbing in his chest and the growing hunger in the pit of his stomach as he pushed onward.


	2. Singing and Stowaways

Snaking through the water, the siren perked a finned ear. He pressed against the wooden ship, keeping low and in the shadows. Blending in with the dark water, he listened.

“Looks to me like Subcon port is due west, Captain.”

“They haven’t had a proper ruler in centuries and there are no reports of military or militia.”

“Foolish,” a gruff voice, probably the captain, bellowed. “They’ll be ripe pickings, then. Raise the Rosewood flag. We’ll land as neighbors and reap their hospitality.”

Crew members cheered and the siren below smirked.

He lazily twisted and swam out to a cluster of rocks, golden eyes dancing merrily on the splinters of planks and bones that littered the ocean below. He reached his usual perch and heaved himself up, taking a moment to relish in the warm breeze on his chest before flopping around. He straightened, letting his dark purple tail trail in the water while he brushed his fingers through his tangled chestnut locks that had grown down to the small of his back. He hummed thoughtfully, briefly wondering if he should trim it soon.

Glancing back up at the ship, he cleared his throat before letting out a boisterous laugh. The crew practically slammed against the railing of the ship, following his maniacal laugh like moths to a flame. One shipmate even fell overboard, having been pushed out of the way by one of his own.

“FooOoooOoools,” the siren jeered, delighting in how they hung onto every trailing “ooo.” “No one comes into my territory and gets out alive! I’ll tell ya what though, I’ll sweeten the deal out of my generous heart. If you steer your sorry excuse of a ship into these rocks, I’ll keep blessing you with my lovely vocal cords.” He fanned out his webbed fingers over his neck, fangs glinting in the sunlight.

“Do it!” The captain smacked the person closest to him and the crewmate disappeared with a frantic salute, presumably darting over to the wheel. Sure enough, the ship made a wide turn in the waves and the merman grinned. He dove into the water and swam out, giving the ship some space as it smashed into the rocks with a sickening crack.

Water surged into the ship, hungrily searching for souls.

“Wonderful job,” the siren cooed, floating on his back as his tail flicked back and forth. “Now, I have one more proposal. Since you’re going to die anyway, why don’t we speed things up a bit? I’ll treat you to a song and you’ll jump overboard and give up your souls.” He flashed his fangs and the crew aboard the ship nodded, hanging onto every word. The siren straightened in the water. “It’s a deal then!”

Hmm, he stared at the crew, golden eyes unblinking as he searched. Ah, there, the faintest hint of colors emanating from their chests. Subdued blues, a vibrant purple like his tail, and a couple raging, jealous greens. To please the majority, he swiftly picked out a song for the occasion.

“ _There once was fair a maiden, with gilded crown on hair,”_ he began, delving into the sweetness of his voice and honing it instead of flippantly cackling like he enjoyed. He continued with a slight, haunting echo reverberating in his voice, “ _A painter surely loved her, their hearts entwined with care._ ”

He heard a splash and the waves around him lapped eagerly. He kept his golden eyes closed, indulging in the chance to perform before an audience.

“ _But jealousy it trembles, ice cuts with distant cold. Scales embrace the broken sea, and salt ‘round voice enfolds_.” His voice seemed to dance on the rough sea, flitting back and forth as more of the crew jumped overboard and were silently dragged down by the water. “ _Shadows have ere consumed me. My heart cleaved lies in tattered chest.”_

He cracked an eye open, confirming that all the crew had jumped, with only a few stragglers trying to swim toward him as the ocean pushed them down. He closed his eye again, indulging in the last verse and ensuring they only felt peace as they drowned.

“ _No guiding hope dares light my path. My broken voice earns no rest.”_ He finished with a sigh and ran his hand through his long hair. 

The ship was still sinking, planks creaking in agony as they snapped or bent. He dove down, finding the crew with their souls trailing from their bodies. The blue souls tended to fade the fastest, as the ocean seemed to love to devour them most. He hurried over to the nearest blue soul and plucked it up, severing its tail from its body.

He closed his eyes, feeling the flickering pulse of sorrow and hope and love from the soul. Blue souls belonged to the quiet, usually, the ones who listened and smiled when looked at no matter what they were truly feeling.

“Our deal has concluded,” he whispered, popping the soul into his mouth. Energy filled his body and magic surged through him. He combed the bodies for a few more souls, snatching the blues and the purple, before leaving the rest to the sea.

Resurfacing close to the rocks, he scanned some of the flotsam trailing from the wreck. There were barrels with foods, fabrics, and spirals of rope. Wondering if he might be able to find some fruit he hadn’t had in a while, he wove around until he bumped into a crate that snored in response.

He stiffened, turning to the closed crate as it bobbed on the waves. Since he had just replenished his magic, he shapeshifted, stretching his torso so he could reach the lid of the crate and pry it off.

There were two young girls sleeping soundly on top of a bed of potatoes.

They were cuddled together, though their brows appeared furrowed, as if they had fallen asleep distraught. One girl wore a tattered bow that held back ringlets of her black hair, framing her warm brown features. The other with flushed cheeks was probably the owner of the worn looking top hat that lay near her hazel locks pulled back into a messy ponytail.

Stowaways, probably, he mused as he leaned against the side of the crate. The siren wondered just what they planned to do on a ship of pirates, but he supposed he didn’t really care. Whatever. Not his problem. He shrunk back down to his proper shape, turning to leave, but he paused when he heard one of them whimper in her sleep. He closed his eyes, lifting his hand and pinching the bridge of his nose.

Inwardly grumbling, he pivoted and moved onto the other side of the crate. He gently started pushing it to shore. The waves joined in, mimicking his care as the foaming crests rolled languidly against the wood.

He steered the crate to the beach by the deserted manor, knowing the villagers on the island avoided the area and he wouldn’t have to worry about being seen. But, when he pushed the crate onto the sand, he realized that no one would be around to find the girls. Slumping his shoulders dramatically, he scanned the crate curiously.

Maybe he could see if anyone was fishing? There were a few fishing spots the subconites loved to frequent. It wouldn’t be too hard to nudge someone over this direction. There, that was the plan. He was about to leave when the harsh glint of the sunlight refracted across the water. He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth as he looked over his shoulder.

He needed to find a way to shelter them from the hot sun, huh? And it would be easier to get someone to spot them if they weren’t, well, completely hidden in a crate.

Glancing around, he made sure no one was around to see him shapeshift. This time he gave himself scale-covered legs so he could stand and reach into the crate. He stumbled a bit on the sand and shoved down any opinions he might have had about having legs—or, mostly legs—for the first time in forever, but by leaning on the crate to steady himself, he soon managed to scoop up the hat kid.

He moved to set her down, but her arms had wrapped around his neck and she clung to him. Grimacing, he reached back and pried her small fingers away and lowered her onto the sand. She curled up, frowning.

Next, he scooped up the bow kid, inwardly swearing as she, too, snuggled against his chest and grasped long strands of his hair. After coaxing her to release his hair, he set her next to the other kid and pulled back.

He quickly tilted the crate onto its side, causing the load to shift and a couple of potatoes to roll into the waves. Then, he cleared some space and angled the opening towards the sea, so anyone on a boat would be able to look in and see the girls.

Placing them back into the shade of the crate, they stirred a little and he froze. While the hat kid looked like she might have cracked an eye open, they both settled down and he exhaled.

 _Be good, brats_ , he thought as he brushed their hair out of their faces. Then, he returned to the sea, instantly relaxing as he shifted back into his tail and twisted through the water.

He followed the familiar curve of the shore, avoiding the entrance to a system of caves that wove under the island. While they had long been closed off by ice, he still dreaded the thought of his fellow immortal siren lurking inside.

Checking a few fishing spots, he was dismayed to find them empty. But, nestled deep in a quiet lagoon, there was a small rowboat with an older man with bushy, bleached-blond hair, snoring next to a propped-up pole.

The siren beamed, recognizing the fisherman. There had been many times the man brought out his children on fishing trips and then, more recently, his grandchildren. He was the perfect person to find two stowaways from a shipwreck, the siren decided, and it made his job so much easier that the man was sleeping.

Slinking beneath the water, the siren found the rope used to tie the boat to a dock and snatched it silently. He gently started tugging the boat through the water, relieved when the movement didn’t startle the man awake.

Soon enough, the siren pulled the boat all the way back to the secluded beach. He checked to make sure the girls were still sleeping soundly on the potatoes before he pushed the boat onto the sand, lodging it safely on the beach near the crate.

Swimming back, the siren looked from the sleeping man and back to the girls. Okay. Excellent. He grinned mischievously before slamming his tail against the water and sending an artfully arced splash directly onto the man.

“Wh-what?” The man bolted up, with a cry, glancing around. The siren dropped back, keeping his eyes above the water to watch as the man’s frantic gaze settled on the girls.

“Oi! Lassies! Jist what do ye think yer doing, napping there?”

The girls slowly woke up, rubbing their eyes in a daze as the man jumped out of his boat and quickly knelt by the crate.

Nodding, the siren slipped further away before turning and diving back down into the deep. His lavender flipper skimmed white crests, and he did not know that both girls had caught a glimpse of his tail.

*

Days passed and the siren lazed about. It wasn’t like there was much to do if there were no ships to investigate or no breaches in the ice caves. He may have checked on the secluded beach once or twice, but the girls had long gone with the man and all that remained was the crate and some old potatoes. He thought about swimming closer to port to see if they were settling in but…

No. It wasn’t… it wasn’t his place, anymore.

And so, as the sun set, he expected to return to his hidden alcove tucked away on the farthest end of the island and retire to an uneventful night after an uneventful day.

Except he swam into his open cave to hear chatter rebounding off the walls. He ducked down, glaring as he spotted the two girls investigating the books tucked back against the wall, the various items he salvaged from ships, and finally the old crown that rested on a flat trunk.

Quietly, he slid back and perched behind the rock pillar at the opening of the alcove, scowling as he eyed the walkway that led to the back of his cave from the beach, recognizing how they had stumbled into his cave.

Crap. He got so used to the villagers being afraid of this part of the island, he didn’t expect strangers to go sticking their noses into his business.

“Someone has to live here,” the hat kid was saying, putting her hands on her hips.

“I don’t know, Hattie,” the bow kid sighed, wandering over to the crown and tapping it. “You know how everyone warned us not to come here… maybe it’s not someone we want to meet.”

“But you saw the tail, Brie! There has to be a mermaid here!”

The so-called mermaid closed his eyes, feeling like he had been slapped in the face. They had _seen_ him? Great. Just great.

“Yeah but, what kind of mermaid reads?” Brie pointed to the damp books, frowning.

“A nerdy one,” Hattie lamented. “I was hoping to meet a cooler mythical creature.”

The siren seethed but it wasn’t like he could defend himself.

But _seriously_ , who raised these two to think they could just _waltz_ right into his home and insult his books after he saved their sorry lives!

Okay, granted he had been the reason they were in danger to begin with but… still! Would it hurt to show a modicum of decorum?

“Connie’s going to be worried,” Brie said, glancing towards the opening of the cave, noting the encroaching twilight.

“But don’t you want to wait for the mermaid?” Hattie pushed. “This is the closest thing we have to a lead!”

“I guess,” Brie fiddled with her green coat. “But… what if it’s… a siren?”

He slouched against the rock. How much longer were they going to debate? He had some serious nothing to do that night and they were disrupting his carefully crafted schedule.

“If it was a siren, why would we be here?” Hattie offered. “According to Cat, the siren was ruthless, and any survivors of the shipwrecks were driven mad from hearing the siren song. Besides,” Hattie waved her hand dismissively, “they haven’t dealt with any sirens in a long time.”

He pressed his forehead onto the pillar and closed his eyes. He could just leave. But his eyes glowed and it was more noticeable at night and he didn’t want any sea creatures or humans to see him before he saw them.

Ugh, why weren’t they leaving? He shifted his head and opened his eyes, meeting Hattie’s.

Peck.

“Brie!” Hattie jumped, pointing at the water as he went under with a plop.

This was just pecking great, now they weren’t ever going to leave. He rubbed tiredly at his eyes when he heard a muffled splash. He looked up, his eyes wide as Hattie swam over to him with puffed cheeks.

She jumped in? He blinked as she kicked, trying to reach him but he was too far in the depths for her to swim to. She reached out her hand, her other arm pulling at the water frantically as she started to float back to the surface. Shaking his head with a glare, he hoped she got the message and left.

After resurfacing she dived right back down, again, reaching out as she fruitlessly tried to reach him. He scowled, realizing she wasn’t going to give up.

Not wanting to prolong the encounter, he glided up to her and scooped her up. Rising above the water, it took every ounce of self-control to not yell at them to _get out of his cave_!

“You’re real?” Brie cried as Hattie gasped for air.

“You’re real!” Hattie cheered, lifting her arms in triumph before her eyes fell onto his finned ears poking out of his chestnut locks. “An actual merperson!” She poked at his ears and they twitched. He bared his fangs, snarling silently, as he pushed her hand away.

“Are you a merman or a siren?” Brie asked nervously, shifting her weight on her feet as she watched him bring Hattie back to the ledge and shoved her onto the rock.

Still showing his fangs, he gave her a grumpy look before turning his back to them. He collected his hair and pulled the thick wad over his shoulder, twisting the clump before reaching back and pulling himself up onto the ledge to sit.

This action revealed the lavender fins that laced around his hip, a clear border between human skin and deep purple scales. The girls gasped and he turned, raising a brow as they stared, wide-eyed, at his tail.

Good grief.

He tried to ignore them, hoping they would get bored and leave. He began brushing his fingers through his matted tangles. The girls flanked both of his sides and he tensed as they leaned in.

“Your eyes glow!”

“You have fins on your arms!”

“Is this where you live?”

They got too close for comfort and he scowled, dropping his hair and pushing them back. He shot glares and bared his fangs.

“Why aren’t you talking?” Hattie asked.

“Are you like the little mermaid?” Brie’s lilac eyes shone in the dwindling light.

Shoot, he glanced towards the darkening sea and sky. They were on the cusp of night and the two girls had not only wet rocks and water to navigate around, but a dark forest standing between them and the village.

“Do we need to help you find your true love?” Hattie beamed not seeming to care to keep track of the time, practically bouncing on her feet.

He stiffened at the question, but his glares didn’t seem to be doing anything to stop them.

“You must be a merman, at least,” Hattie mused sagely. “Because sirens can talk.”

He gave her a sideways glance, lips stretching into a wicked smile.

“Oh.” Realization flickered across her features as she caught his meaning. “You _are_ the siren.”

“The ship we were on—” Brie glanced out at the opening of the cave, as if she could catch a glimpse of the wooden structure. But it had already sunk days ago, entombed by the waves.

“But then why would you save us?” Hattie asked.

He inhaled dramatically and mimed letting out a tired sigh. He continued brushing out his hair, watching as the twilight melded into dark. Whatever, it was their own fault for coming here and bugging him.

“Ooo, can we help?” Hattie reached out for his hair.

The grasping hands in the corner of his eye caused him to jolt and he thrust himself back into the water with a loud splash. He resurfaced, finding the girls drenched with startled features as he clutched his hair. His ears flattened back and the fin on his spine stiffened.

“Sorry,” Hattie put her hand down, biting her lip.

He bared his fangs, wanting to hiss but still careful to hold his tongue. Though, calming down from the initial scare, he knew Hattie hadn’t meant any harm.

It was just it reminded him of the last time… the last time someone had done his hair… so long ago. 

“Are you okay?” Brie asked, coming closer to the edge and crossing her arms.

He glanced up, meeting her worried expression and he realized he was slumping, his ears drooping pathetically. He bristled, shooting her a scowl, but admittedly a more fatigued one.

“Maybe we should get out of your hair,” Brie offered, giving a bashful smile at her wordplay.

He wanted to glare but also had to admit that was a bad enough joke to earn a smile after centuries of solitude. Instead of doing either, his lips pressed into a tight line and he just nodded.

“Can we come back though?” Hattie asked.

He shook his head.

“We’ll be back.” Hattie smiled mischievously.

His jaw dropped in outrage.

“Don’t worry!” Brie assured as they started for the exit. “We won’t tell anyone—whoa!”

He dropped his hair and, with a sharp flick of his tail, darted over to catch Brie after she slipped on the rock. She landed in his arms, looking frazzled but unharmed. She grabbed his shoulder out of fright and he tensed.

“Brie!” Hattie started to run over, and the siren held up his hand then gestured at the slippery rock she was about to run over.

Do these two not pay _any_ attention, _ever_?

“Sorry,” Brie whispered, looking up with drooped brows.

She was trembling in his arms. He wasn’t sure if it was from fear or cold. Actually, how cold was it? It was summer and he was comfortable in the water, but he wasn’t sure if the brats could handle it, especially now that it was night and the waves in the alcove never got that much sunlight in the day to begin with.

Ugh, he usually didn’t like using soul magic to increase his body temperature—it burned a lot of energy and ultimately wasn’t necessary since he could survive in any temperature but… the girls needed to get home and they clearly weren’t going to have an easy time on their own.

 _Fine_.

Holding Brie to his chest, he motioned for Hattie to jump in. The child grinned before leaping, sending a barrage of salt water over them. Once the water settled and she popped back out, she latched onto his outstretched hand and he pulled her towards his back.

“Wow you’re warm!” Hattie grinned as she latched around his back, her arms draped over his shoulders.

Brie leaned her head against Hattie’s arm, still gripping his shoulder, but her shaking was slowing.

“And nice!” She beamed up at him.

The siren looked away, feeling his chest tighten. He shook his head, trying to shove their compliments away.

He was a monster. He ate souls. He was neither nice nor kind.

But he was warm, he admitted as he swam out of the cave. The two girls seemed content as he radiated heat. And… that was kind of nice, being able to make them more comfortable.

While he swam around the island, easily navigating in the moonlight, the girls chatted. They asked him some questions, but he ignored them until they finally just talked between each other. Like what would they tell Connie, or how they couldn’t tell Timmy no matter how much he made fun of the legends.

Reaching a beach that led up to the village, the siren swam over to the shallows and waited for them to scramble back onto land.

“Thanks Mr. Siren!” Hattie waved, before tilting her head. “Oh, what should we call you?”

He shrugged. He didn’t really care, and they really shouldn’t visit again anyway.

“Mr. Siren doesn’t suit you.” Brie tapped her chin. “What fits? You’re pretty fast when you move.”

“Yeah,” Hattie nodded. “He snatched his hair away pretty fast and then snatched you from midair.”

“How about Snatcher, then?” Brie beamed, glancing towards the siren.

He made a face. _Snatcher?_ That wasn’t a name.

“It’s perfect!” Hattie bounced up and down. “Snatcher!”

“We’ll come visit again!” Brie declared excitedly as they turned to go.

“Goodnight, Snatcher!” Hattie yelled, waving. They ran up the beach, before the siren could react.

Waiting until they had disappeared from sight, he rubbed his eyes and groaned.

“ _Snatcher_?” He whispered, diving back down. He supposed it fit a siren that snatched souls, even if the girls hadn’t had that in mind when picking the name.

Sighing, he twisted as he swam through the sea. He hummed to himself, keeping an eye out for predators. He tried to figure out how he could get the kids to leave him alone, but something told him it was too late to deter them. Despite believing they would be a pain in the flipper, there was a warmth flickering in his chest. And, for the first time in forever, it wasn’t from his magic.


	3. The Haunted(?) Manor

Snatcher pressed his claw into the rind of the orange, splattering juice a bit before he tugged back the peel. The fragrance of fresh fruit instantly wafted into his nose. His shoulders and ears relaxed with a dip as he comfortably set into the mundane but dearly missed action of peeling an orange.

Next to him, Brie sat on the ledge of the rock in his cave, kicking her legs contentedly in the water. She had a pile of oranges from her adopted grandfathers’ orange tree next her and was working on peeling her own orange with a little bit of difficulty. He leaned over and stabbed a claw into her orange, giving her a head start. She offered him a grateful smile before successfully carving the peel away.

His own orange opened, he plucked one of the segments and popped it onto his tongue. He exhaled through his nose, barely holding back a hum of delight. The squirt of juice from biting down on the fruit was tangy and sweet. He thought back to a time long ago, where he would peel oranges with his brother in the shade of a tree on a warm summer day.

He was brought out of his daydreaming by Hattie’s excited shouting. Keeping his focus on his orange so as not to seem interested, he did watch her scramble over the rocks leading into the cave out of the corner of his eye. She had filled her hat with various seashells collected from the nearby beach.

“I found a conch!” Hattie declared, sliding next to Brie, who turned towards the passionate presentation.

Snatcher continued eating his orange, half-listening.

It had been a few weeks and the girls came by nearly every day, filling the silence as they talked about all the new people in the village they had met, all the friends they made, and any shenanigans between the fisherman, Connie, and his storytelling lover, DJ. Snatcher wouldn’t admit it, but it was nice to hear more personal accounts of the new generation on the island. He had parsed together that Cat, or Caitlynn, was probably descended from Catherine. Cat retained her ancestor’s love of cooking and had a successful restaurant. The girls sure loved her for all the good food Cat shared with them.

But, oddly enough, Snatcher couldn’t get the girls to tell him anything about their lives before he found them in the potato crate. Even after they brought him a notebook to write his questions in, they would either flit around answering or change the subject.

Not that he ever answered when they asked what turned him into a siren, but that was none of their pecking business.

“Okay, are you ready?” Hattie pushed to her feet. She had laid out all of the seashells and seemed to intend to leave them there since she put her hat back on.

“Yep!” Brie dropped her peel, having finished her orange. Hattie reached out her hand and pulled her up.

“Ew! Your hand is all sticky,” Hattie teased.

Snatcher leaned back, grabbing the notebook and turning to the first page, where the three of them originally agreed on the terms and the stipulations of meeting with him. While Brie washed her hands in the sea water, he pointed his own sticky finger towards the line that said, _you brats cannot litter in my cave_!

“Oh, yeah, sorry!” Brie grabbed her peel while Hattie turned to go.

He lifted his tail out of the water and flicked a splash towards Hattie.

“What?” She turned. “I didn’t litter!”

He pointed at the shells.

“But those are treasures! Not trash!” Hattie said, incredulous.

He rolled his eyes. Maybe to them, but he had seen enough shells to last multiple lifetimes. Literally.

“Can I pick them up later?” Hattie asked as he set the notebook back down and grabbed another orange segment. “We’re going on an expedition!”

“Yeah!” Brie stretched out her arms excitedly. “We want to find the ghost in the manor!” 

He paused with the segment millimeters from his open mouth.

The—the what? In where?

“You haven’t heard the stories?” Hattie tilted her head, giving him a quick scan. “But… how long have you been a siren? I thought these were old legends?”

“You know the prince and princess, right?” Brie asked. “The last ones that ruled over Subcon?”

He nodded with the slight tilt of his head.

“Well, apparently the princess became a siren—” Brie began.

“Or she died,” Hattie interjected.

“—And the village blamed the prince.”

“We don’t know if he did anything though.”

“But they thought by sacrificing the prince to the siren,” Brie continued, “they could appease the princess.”

“Except it didn’t and made things worse,” Hattie added. “And now there’s a ghost in the manor and that’s why everyone stays away. Because anyone who goes there disappears.”

“But some people think the ghost is the princess, angry at her subjects for needlessly sacrificing her prince.”

“And some think the ghost is the prince who wants revenge for obvious reasons.”

Snatcher blinked at them, dumbfounded.

That was really what people were saying? That didn’t answer anything about why the manor was haunted though… since both he and Vanessa had become sirens. If they weren’t doing the haunting, then who was?

“You didn’t know all that?” Hattie asked.

Ignoring her question, he glanced down at his lap, eying his dark purple scales.

He didn’t like the idea of the girls trapezing around the manor but, knowing them, they were going no matter what he did. It wasn’t like the manor was dangerous or that he cared if they destroyed it. It wasn’t his home anymore, after all. But, the idea of the manor being haunted was… concerning.

If people really were disappearing…

“Snatcher? Is everything okay?” Brie asked.

He… he could technically go with them. And he certainly wanted answers for himself. But… he breathed, closing his eyes and feeling the magic surging through his body. He hadn’t had a soul in a while, but he had enough magic to spend… probably a day transformed. It was just that that meant he would be dangerously low on magic. Which was fine, as long as Vanessa didn’t try anything, and she hadn’t in a while…

“Snatcher?” Hattie tried, snapping him out of his thoughts.

Snatcher popped the orange segment into his mouth before holding up a finger to tell them to wait. After a quick wash of his hands, he scooted back, dragging his cumbersome tail onto the floor of the cave as he grabbed the notebook and pencil.

Thinking, he tapped the pencil on the page. Finally, he scrawled out quickly, _Wait outside of the cave for a couple of minutes._

He handed over the notebook and pulled his tail to his chest, tapping his flipper against the stone while they read the note.

They stared at him, looking confused, but when he didn’t offer any explanation, they shrugged and agreed. Once they were gone, he stared down at his tail.

Inhaling a steadying breath, he focused on changing his tail to legs, willing his tail to split into two. It cleanly parted and the dark purple scales melted into skin. Then, he changed his ears to look human, feeling them shrink down behind his chestnut locks. He blinked, remembering his eyes as he urged the fins on his spine and arms to recede. He pictured his eyes, losing the glow and regaining pupils, shrinking the gold down into the irises.

Phew. He shook his head and glanced over himself. Seemed human enough. Gross.

But, the point was that if there was a ghost or anyone else around, they wouldn’t be able to tell he was a siren. He would just have to swallow his feelings about being in a form… least suited to him… for the time being.

Grateful he had a pair of clothes stored away—a simple lilac tunic and pair of trousers he had salvaged during his earlier siren days—he dug through his trunk, locating them quickly. It was a bit difficult to get them on, since his legs quivered whenever he put weight on them, but eventually, he managed to stand, fully dressed.

Brushing his long hair back, he slowly wobbled out of the cave and onto the beach, feeling hot sand squelch between his toes and scratch at his skin.

“You could change into a human this whole time?” Hattie cried in disbelief.

He stumbled, surprised from her yell. After catching himself, he shot her a glare.

“Why don’t you ever go on land?” Brie asked, looking just as shocked as her friend.

He rolled his eyes and gestured at himself before tapping his wrist where a watch might have sat if he wore or owned one.

“Time limit?” Brie surmised. He nodded.

“But you wanted to search for ghosts with us?” Hattie beamed, rushing over and grabbing his hand.

He jerked his hand back, giving her an unimpressed look. She stuck out her tongue at him before returning to Brie’s side.

“Well, are you ready?” Brie asked. She eyed his wobbly legs as he crossed over to them. Looking down and fiddling with her blouse, she gave him an innocent look. “Snatcher? I’m a little scared of the ghost… could you… hold my hand?” She held out her palm and he looked from it to her gaze and back.

Making a show of a sigh like it was a grave inconvenience, he let her hold his hand. And it was a good thing he did, because as the two girls led him up and around the hill, Brie had kept him from faceplanting a few times.

As they neared the manor, a sense of dread settled in Snatcher’s chest. Was he really going back? He had to investigate the ghost, didn’t he? No… not really. He had long ago accepted that the manor would be at the whimsy of the villagers and had come to terms with any possible fate for it. If a ghost took up residence or, more likely a person utilizing squatters’ law, who was he to stop them? But… if it was something dangerous or even a little threatening… he at least should know about it, right?

“Snatcher?” Hattie prompted, pulling him from his thoughts. He looked over at her, meeting inquisitive blue eyes. “Everything okay?” He blinked and the pause was long enough for her to add in a mischievous voice, “because you look kind of stupid when you think too hard.”

That Brat!

He stuck out his tongue, mimicking her from earlier and she laughed. He smirked despite himself.

Soon enough, they came to the front porch of the large manor. Snatcher glanced around, examining the old, rotting wood beams and listening to the creak of the structure in the wind. The smell of mold and mildew was strong.

“I can’t get the door to budge.” Hattie pouted as she pulled on the handle. Brie released Snatcher’s hand, going to help her friend.

Unperturbed, Snatcher moved on muscle memory as he crossed over to a statue of a woman holding a water jug. Unfortunately, time had not been kind to the statue, as its head was missing, but it still did its job of protecting the spare key. Snatcher removed the spare key from under the statue and returned to the door. He shooed the girls out of the way. They parted as he slipped the key into the hole and the door unlocked with a clicked.

“Where did you find that?” Brie asked, wide eyed.

He gestured vaguely towards the statue before pushing the door open.

A blast of cold air assaulted them, and Snatcher frowned. He glanced down at the girls, but they hadn’t seemed to notice the cold. Or at least, weren’t concerned by it. In fact, without a shred of trepidation, they took off into the large foyer, turning in circles as they took in the old building.

Snatcher followed, grimacing as the floor creaked and bent under him. At first glance, nothing seemed changed, just coated in dust. The same length of red and gold carpet leading from the entryway to the stairs, the decorations, the—he paused, spotting the portrait of him and Vanessa, painted so long ago, hanging over the mantel.

There were claw marks through his face, obscuring his features completely.

“Whoa.” Brie followed his gaze and let out a low whistle. “Is that the princess and prince?”

“If it is, the ghost must be the princess,” Hattie responded, joining them. “What do you think, Snatcher?” She waited a moment. “Snatcher?”

He jolted, looking down to find the girls staring up at him. Frustrated he had been caught lost in thought, he scowled and started for the stairs.

“Wait!” The girls trailed behind him, craning their necks as they oo-ed and aw-ed at the mystery of the dusty, cold manor.

The second floor was dotted with claw marks similar to the ones in the portrait, sending a chill up Snatcher’s spine. Meanwhile, Hattie and Brie were enthralled by every ominous sign, more curious than scared. He ignored their suggestions to check out the first rooms they passed and went straight to his and Vanessa’s room.

“Geez,” Hattie gasped as soon as he pushed open the door.

“What happened?” Brie whispered in fright.

Snatcher stared into the bedroom filled with scattered papers, torn bedsheets, and destroyed portraits. The moldy stench of salt-water-soaked wood lingered in the room despite the shattered window creaking in the breeze, letting in the warmth of the sun and smell of fresh grass.

Eying the line of yellowed parchment, Snatcher followed the trail to Vanessa’s old diary which had been clawed and stained with black ink and a crimson substance. The siren picked it up and sniffed the object. He didn’t flinch at the faint hint of iron.

“Was this the princess’ room?” Hattie asked Brie as they went to investigate the portraits hanging by the dresser.

While they whispered, making up stories about the manor’s history as they gathered clues, Snatcher opened the diary.

Back then, when Vanessa originally went missing, he had read her most recent entries for clues, but never beyond that, conscious that she had always been anxious about him reading the contents. But, now? He had no reason to offer that decency. And the torn pages unsettled even him, making him suspect he might find answers in it.

The beginning held mundane records. There were a few scattered pages gushing over her prince which he skipped over with a churning stomach. Though other entries about him drew his eye, making him feel sicker.

_My prince spends too long in his studio in the woods! Painting or playing his violin! I’m sick of it! Surely if it were gone, he would spend more time with me._

He blinked, thinking about the fire that consumed his studio one stormy night. It had been a lightning strike, he thought. He had despaired since his music and all his landscapes of the ocean and forest and villager has so quickly become ashes. Vanessa wouldn’t have… would she?

_Now the prince only spends time in the library, reading. It takes so much to coax him away from fairy tales. Today he wouldn’t shut up about the Lorelie. Why can’t he talk about me like he talks about her?_

Was she jealous even of a fictional character? Or, Snatcher scowled, maybe that particular legend wasn’t so fictional considering the circumstances, but still.

He flipped forward a few pages, stopping when a page had a smear of blood over it. The entry was about making him cookies, but when he went to turn the page, he found the next two stuck together. Gingerly, he pried the pages apart and his heart nearly stopped.

In red, written messily over the entry, was the word, _Souls_.

He flipped through the pages, finding claw marks beginning to tear through the entries. Fragments of phrases danced between the crevices in the parchment.

_…loves the moon…_

_The ocean calls…_

_…hurts…_

_…like a common tramp…_

_…hate his hair…_

_It’s not fair!_

And finally, he caught up to the last entries, pulse pounding in his ears. The splatters of red bled through the pages. He skipped to the final entry he remembered, the last one written in ink. But there were newer entries.

_Souls. Must find souls._

_Prince, where did you go?_

_Delicious souls._

_If I eat enough will he return?_

_My prince… only the ocean knows._

A lump formed in his throat. Had she written this after he turned into a siren? Did that mean she had somehow made it to the manor? But everyone who had lived in it—! There was one more entry. He swallowed thickly as he turned the page.

The last page was dog-eared. It had new handwriting he recognized after a moment of reading. He could hear Catherine’s voice.

_After they threw the prince over the cliff the attacks have worsened. Servants have been disappearing, claw marks appear in the walls and furniture overnight. I’ve sent everyone away to the village but if the monster is the prince or princess… I’ve chosen to stay. Emmy took the girls. The prince had been researching sirens the night it all started, and I’ve continued the research. I’ve—_

The last “e” ended in a jagged line, as if something startled her. Then, written diagonally at the bottom, frantically scrawled, was her last message splattered with red.

_The princess is out of her mind! If you’re reading this, run! Plug your ears! Luka, I’m sorry. It looks like I’ll see you soo—_

Snatcher dropped the diary. His eyes burned as he took a step back, his mind whirling as he tried to understand.

_If I eat enough will he return?_

Vanessa’s red-lettered entry flashed in his mind. She still hunted her people. She still ate souls even after they had tossed him into the sea. Even after he had endured her songs and voice and cold.

None of it had mattered, in the end.

“Snatcher?” A voice called but he didn’t hear.

Instead he held up trembling hands with nails sharpened into claws. Despite it all, the cold cave, the change, _her voice_ ; people still died. His friends and family still died. _Catherine died_ because he couldn’t protect them.

A shaking gasp escaped his lips and he clamped his hand over his mouth, glancing at the girls, who were both watching him with concern but clear eyes.

Peck.

His legs felt like jellyfish and he dropped to his knees.

“Snatcher?” Hattie and Brie dashed to his side.

The tightness in his chest burned. His eyes ached as golden goop solidified into pearls that dribbled down, plinking against the floorboards and tattered paper. Everything hurt. He wanted to scream. He wanted to run. _Why?_ Why did Vanessa still torment them when she had him chained in ice? Was this his punishment for escaping? How did she even get back into the manor? Could she shapeshift too?

Questions whirled in his mind but without answers they shifted into something darker.

_My fault._

It was all his fault. He was a monster. He broke Vanessa’s heart and people died because he hadn’t been good enough. And even as a siren he still couldn’t protect them. He was just a pathetic, foolish monster.

The pearls increased in volume and anguished cries threatened to spill out of his mouth, but he kept his hand firmly against his lips, digging his claws in as he refused to make a sound around the girls. But this seemed to only make him cry harder.

“Your fins!” Brie cried, snapping his gaze down to where she was pointing. Fins pushed back out of his arm and his bare feet were starting to turn a shade of lavender.

“Can you stand?” Hattie asked frantically, “Are you in pain?”

Hand still clutched against his mouth; he used his other to push their offers to help away. Barely breathing to hold back sobs, his chest burned as he stumbled to his feet. His sight blurred for a second as the gold in his irises spilled over, filling his eyes with a glow. He could feel his ears stretching back to normal and his fins emerging from his spine.

Hattie ran forward and paused at the door, waiting for him while Brie stood by his side. When he hobbled forward, dizzy from his limited breath, Brie slowly trailed behind him. The girls remained his protectors, with Hattie leading the way while Brie stood behind to watch his back and make sure he wasn’t left behind. The cold seemed to increase and he sharply inhaled once they reached the bottom of the stairs. The floor of the manor let out an ear-splitting creak.

His hair on the back of his neck stood on end and he turned towards the sound, glancing at the back door of the manor that led to the garden outside.

The garden with the marine pond.

His eyes widened when he could see the glitter of creeping ice underneath the door. Cold fear coiled around his heart and adrenalin pulsed through his aching.

Without hesitation, he leaned back and grabbed Brie’s hand, yanking her up and causing her to yelp. Pressing her against his hip, he quickened his pace and scooped down to slip his hand into Hattie’s. She gave him a confused look before he pulled her out of the manor. Sensing his urgency, Hattie ran with him up and around the grassy hill. They didn’t stop once before reaching the beach where Snatcher practically dropped Brie before slipping into the water.

The trousers split as his tail returned, thrashing away its confinements. Snatcher dove out to sea, swimming frantically into the depths before letting out a string of swears where only the ocean could hear.

“Peck!” He growled, lifting a hand to his eyes as pearls pushed out. His frustrated growls quickly dissolved into sobs that tore through his chest.

“Darn it.” He wheezed between hyperventilating. “Pull yourself together,” he ordered, sniffing in the water. A brief observation of how airy and ethereal his voice was despite his tears nearly sent him into irreparable hysterics. “No,” he growled, biting his lip and purposefully digging his fang into his skin, like the pain would snap him out of it. “Stop it. Get it together, Luka.”

He could do this. He could pull himself together and be composed. He was a monster, not some stupid prince chained in a cave. He had power and he had control.

He slowed his breathing, pressing a hand to his chest. Water washed over his gills in a gentle ebb and flow, in and out. He was fine. He was calm and collected.

“Phew,” he huffed, using his voice while he could for good measure. He rubbed his eyes and resurfaced.

“Are you okay?” Hattie yelled from the beach, which, he had ended up a good distance from. He quickly turned around with a sharp flick of his tail and returned to the shallows rolling against the beach.

“We didn’t know transforming hurt so much!” Brie jumped against him as soon as he was close enough. He froze as she hugged his neck.

“We’re sorry!” Hattie joined in the hug.

They thought he was upset about changing back?

“We won’t make you come with us again,” Brie’s promise made his blood run cold.

He pulled away, shaking his head. They looked at him with curious red-rimmed eyes. Too tired to swim back to his cave and grab the notebook, he flicked his tail and rode the waves onto the shore.

After using his palm to flatten out the sand, he used a claw to draw a quick outline of the manor. He glanced at the girls and they nodded.

“Manor,” Brie added for further clarity.

He put an “x” through it and gave them a pointed look.

“You don’t want us going back?” Hattie asked.

“Why?” Brie bit her lip.

He leveled the sand again before staring at the golden particles. He lifted his tail into the air and gave it a thoughtful slap against the crests of the waves. If he didn’t tell them the truth, they would go looking for it.

He drew Vanessa as a human in the sand, her crown on her head for good measure.

“The princess,” Hattie surmised.

He added an equal’s sign and drew her as a siren in the sand.

“Is a siren,” Brie finished.

He nodded and then drew an arrow to more sand. He added the manor below the arrow. Content he had made himself clear, he turned onto his side, propping his elbow on the beach and resting his head in his hand.

“The princess is in the manor?” Hattie’s eyes widened.

“That’s why you picked me up so suddenly?” Brie’s features flashed with understanding.

He nodded, features tight.

“And she’s not a nice siren like you?” Hattie pursed her lips, looking pensive.

He stiffened at that. No sirens were nice, including him. Instead of nodding or shaking his head, he curled his flipper and splashed them with water. This only earned giggles from the girls and his jaw dropped in exaggerated exasperation.

“We’ll stay away from the manor,” Hattie promised once their giggles died down, arms crossed behind her back.

He visibly relaxed, his tail shifting lazily in the water.

“Grandpa Connie and DJ are probably waiting for us,” Brie added, glancing towards the sky where the afternoon sun inched ever onward.

“Yeah, get some rest, Snatcher!” Hattie leaned down and patted his head. He wrinkled his nose, pulling away which caused her to laugh.

“Good night!” Brie added, though night was still hours away. The girls scrambled down the beach, chattering together urgently.

Snatcher let out a long sigh, turning to watch them go and disappear into the woods as they made their way home. Exhausted, he flopped down on the beach, propping his forehead on his arms as the ocean breeze brushed against the fin stretching down his spine and through his long locks of hair.

He supposed he was going to need to investigate the manor himself, though he would need to do it after… re-energizing. The thought of meeting with Vanessa again made his insides twist, but so long as the villagers and the girls stayed away from the manor, he probably didn’t need to worry about her hunting souls. The villagers seemed certainly scared of the manor. And the girls promised to stay away, seeming to understand the gravity of the situation.

Though… it was a promise he probably should have gotten in writing. But the fatigued prince-turned-siren didn’t think about that. Instead, he rested on the beach, tail in the cool sea and torso on the warm sand.

The waves lulled him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PHEW. Golly goodness let me tell you. This idea came to me, singing its siren song and I, its wretched captive, had to madly pen it down with reckless abandon. 3 chapters in 4 days. There's bound to be typos. Apologies. Left it open for more chapters but, aha, we'll see. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks so much for reading! Let me know what you think and I hope you're having a lovely morning/day/afternoon/evening/night!


	4. Like a Fish Out of Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snatcher is dragged ashore by the kiddos! Land is full of memories for the poor siren but not all of them are bad...

The girls dragged the reluctant siren across the beach and towards town. Snatcher had to bend over slightly, since Brie held his left hand and Hattie held his right. His still-damp, chestnut bangs kept falling into his eyes and he had no easy way to brush them back. He tossed his head to the side, hoping the bangs would follow the motion, but they did not. In one final, vain attempt, he aimed a huff upward and his breath tickled his nose but failed to do anything more than cause a few strands to shiver. He bit back a noise of frustration.

“You’re going to love meeting Cat!” Brie kept her gaze down as they walked, stepping around rocks and bracing for uneven ground. “She’s so nice and makes the best cookies.”

Vanessa had always made the best cookies, he remembered. Immediately, he scowled and inwardly chastised himself.

“I bet you’ll like Grandpa Connie,” Hattie interjected, skipping as she went with her eyes on her companions instead of where she was going. Snatcher had to tug her out of the way of the occasional obstacle that threatened to trip her up. “He’s funny and grumpy like you!”

Snatcher tried to give her a pointed look from under his bangs, but the effect was lost.

The girls had finally convinced Snatcher to visit the village, wanting to show off their BFF to everyone. Snatcher originally dragged his tail, not wanting to waste the energy or worry about being in a large group of people who he could hurt and who could hurt him and why did he think this was a good idea, again?

“But we promise we can stop at Tim’s too,” Brie promised. “His bookstore has a whole bunch of books salvaged from the manor!”

“Yeah.” Hattie wrinkled her nose. “They’re gross and smelly.”

Right. They had coerced him with books. Specifically books he had found were missing from the manor on the handful of times he had gone back, alone.

It had been about a month since he had followed the girls into the manor and he had discovered that Vanessa had been returning to their old home herself, using the tunnels under the island to easily access it. A month and he had only been able to determine that Vanessa was growing stronger, having been steadily feasting on any soul foolish enough to enter the manor while she locked herself away in the tunnels, maintaining ice barriers at the entrances. He couldn’t find out more than that, trying to conserve his soul magic by limiting how long he shapeshifted a human form, but also, he never had the chance to linger in the manor looking for clues before she sensed someone around and came looking for him.

He… he couldn’t face her again. At least not like this. Her ice had been freezing more and more and if the bloodied diary was any indication, she was looking for her prince. He could only imagine what she would do to ensure he never left her grasp again. Legs itching with returning scales, his wrists, scarred from ice chains, felt a phantom cold creep deep into his bones. Clammy palms threatened to slip from the girls’ hands as they led him towards the edge of the bustling town that once threw him into the ocean and into the ice.

“Snatcher?” Brie asked, glancing from his hand to his blank stare.

He snapped back to the present, instinctively snarling silently with his fangs glinting in the sunlight.

“You don’t have to be scared!” Brie responded to his raised hackles gently. “Everyone is super friendly, and we thought of a cover story and everything!”

“Yeah,” Hattie piped in, swinging his hand in excitement. “Brie and I even turned the old house in the woods into a fort, so it looks like someone lives there! No one will suspect a thing!”

Rolling his eyes, he tried to convey the depths with which he wasn’t scared. If anything, everyone in town needed to be afraid of him because one word, one sound, would be all it would take to have them wrapped around his webbed finger.

“Your ears…” Hattie pointed.

He automatically pulled his hands from theirs and straightened, feeling the stretching cartilage as his earlier moment of reminiscing made him lose focus on keeping a human form. Scowling, he pictured human ears and soothed away the itchy scales he could feel pushing through his legs. Patting himself down briefly, he glanced at the girls, as if to confirm he caught everything. They held thumbs up and he exhaled. Clasping his hands together and straightening, he nodded, letting them know he was ready to slip into the village, get the books they promised, and get out.

He needed that book about sirens. He needed information on how to ensure the queen could never hurt the people of Subcon again.

Get in. Get out.

Brie and Hattie exchanged glances before shrugging and continuing down the path with bounces in their steps. Snatcher trailed behind, rubbing his thumb against his skin. While he insisted to himself that he was not scared, it _was_ uncomfortable walking further from the shore on unsteady legs, pretending to be human.

The dirt path transitioned into carefully tessellated stones and the girls stepped around the cracks as they picked up speed, more and more excited to show off their siren friend. Bustling and hustling from the villagers perked Snatcher’s ears and he craned his neck. Mixes of cobblestone buildings and freshly painted wooden homes clustered around an old fountain in the center of the town square. The patterned path led forward before splitting and outlining the circumference of the fountain with decorated sea-colored glass. Stalls were set up around the square and banners waved in the salty ocean breeze.

He caught a few shopkeepers staring and he offered a wide grin that showed off his fangs. They stared, the color draining from their features. Snatcher quickly dropped his smile, hurrying to catch up with the girls.

_O-kay. Note to self. Do not show teeth._

The girls led him to a restaurant first and the fragrance of fresh bread wafted straight into his lungs. Hattie opened the door for them. Following Brie in, he glanced around.

Since it was between breakfast and lunch, the restaurant only had a couple of diners huddled around lamps or gazing out the window with plates of crumbs set aside and hands around ceramic cups designed with elegant patterns. At the entrance sat a neatly kept counter with a display case filled with loaves of bread and cakes. Ceramics similar to the dishes used by the customers were stacked on top of the display, with small price cards beckoning patrons to buy the quaint pottery.

Snatcher dug his nails into his hands, feeling very trapped in an otherwise cozy setting.

“Oh, hello dears!” A bright voice chirped as a woman in a chef uniform complete with a hat perched on bouncy, coiled black hair ambled behind the counter. The young woman had a wide smile and a patch of paler skin stretching around her chin and beneath her nose. Her darker complexion warmed her cheeks and her dark brown eyes glittered like gold in the light. Though generations apart, Snatcher immediately recognized the descendant of Catherine, the kind chef who snuck him snacks of bacon while he was lost in his studies and who…

The bloodied diary in the library flashed through his mind and he swallowed thickly. Dispelling the creeping guilt since it was too late to change anything, he snapped to attention when Cat asked who he was.

“He’s Snatcher!” Hattie gave a little twirl and a pose. “He washed ashore like us but lives in the abandoned house in the woods.”

“He also lost his voice,” Brie explained, “so he doesn’t talk much.”

“You’re the friend they keep going on about?” Cat tilted her head, the bridge of her nose crinkling with concern. “We all thought you were imaginary.”

Snatcher shrugged, smirking with closed lips and raising his brows as if to challenge her to try and deny he existed any longer. Her posture stiffened and he sensed that she didn’t trust him which was why what she did next certainly surprised him.

“Well, that just won’t do!” Cat huffed. “You must be starving, Sugar, living in the forest all by yourself!” She turned to the girls and instructed them to bring him to a table and that she would be right back, waving a hand with more patches of lighter skin dotted across her fingers and palms.

Before Snatcher could shake his head or edge towards the door, the girls yanked him over to a table by the window. He stumbled down into the chair, glaring at the girls as they hopped into their own seats. Tapping his finger on the table, he gave them a pointed look.

“The books aren’t going anywhere,” Hattie insisted. “And you wrote that you could be human for the whole day, so what’s the problem?”

Snatcher shook his head, propping his elbows up and running his hands through his tangled hair. Ruffling the locks, his just-dredged-up-from-the-sea appearance became more pronounced.

“Do you want to pull back your hair?” Brie reached into her small pouch she wore around her hip and pulled out a bright yellow ribbon that matched the one tied in Hattie’s hair and two purple ribbons that were the same shade as his scales.

Snatcher locked his fingers together and rested his chin on them, watching her procure the ribbons. He stared at them, considering. It would be nice to keep his hair back so he could better assess any nearing danger before it caught him off guard. With the exaggerated motions of a heavy, but silent, sigh, he reached over and snatched a purple ribbon. Brie beamed.

He held the ribbon between his teeth while he collected his hair. Now that it was drying out, the strands were lighter but fluffed up a little more. Raking his fingers through the locks that always slipped in front of his ears, he got everything into a tight wad that instantly loosened when he went to tie the ribbon. He scowled at himself as hair slipped messily back into his features and the crooked ribbon slumped, failing to do its intended purpose.

“I can help, maybe?” Hattie and Brie exchanged worried looks before looking back to him.

With his chin tilted down as he continued to fiddle with the ribbon, he had to glance up at them from behind a curtain of bangs. Sensing their tension, no doubt from the last time Hattie had tried to help with his hair, he felt the fight leave him.

He nodded, pulling out the ribbon and holding it out for Hattie.

“Can I add some braids too?” Hattie scrambled to her feet; all previous hesitation evaporated.

“Can I help?” Brie joined in, pulling out more ribbons.

Snatcher propped his chin on his palm, leaning his elbow on the table once more, and gave them the go ahead. Trying not to think about the last time someone messed with his hair, he closed his eyes as they got to work. Their fingers caught on a few knots which made him wince each time, but they were so quick to apologize he felt bad for sneering. After every tangle, they slowed their work and took care to be extra gentle as they braided.

“Done,” Hattie declared, bouncing backward.

Snatcher cracked his eyes open and turned his head back and forth, feeling the tight braids and carefully tied ribbons keep his hair firmly back. A couple wisps too short to be tamed framed his features and he still needed to brush his bangs aside, but ultimately, he had to admit it was a vast improvement.

“Does it feel okay,” Brie asked stepping around to his front and examining their work.

He nodded. Over Brie’s head, Cat was looking over at them, a smirk on her features that told him she had just seen the whole thing. Quickly looking away, he leaned into his hand propping up his chin while using the other to nonchalantly trace the grain of the wood in the table.

“Well, didn’t you girls do a wonderful job,” Cat cooed, ambling over and holding a tray stacked with a kettle, ceramic cups, and a dish pilled with flaky pastries.

Hattie and Brie jumped back into their seats and waited as Cat placed the tray by the lamp.

“Now, Snatcher,” Cat muttered as the girls took turns eagerly pouring the tea for each other and then a cup for Snatcher. “Have you really been camping out in that old, burned down building?”

Snatcher met her questioning gaze and dipped his head in affirmation, going along with the girls’ plan. He wasn’t sure anyone would buy the story that a shipwrecked vagabond had taken up residence in the prince’s scorched study in the forest without anyone knowing or without him venturing into town for help, but it sounded better than telling everyone he was a siren living in a cave on the beach.

A cup was pushed against his hand and instinctively, his fingers wrapped around the handle. The white cup had swirls of light blue and seafoam green twisting around the outside like crests of waves curved with the tide. The rim was painted gold, adding a decadence to the elegant design. And the amber tea inside smelled inviting and warm.

“I have to say,” Cat said lowly so that Brie and Hattie couldn’t hear over their excited chatter about which pastry to make Snatcher eat first, “I was worried when I first saw that you were real, but you seem like a gentle soul, Mr. Snatcher. I hope you’ll come to rely on the village here. We’d be happy to help you back on your feet.”

Gentle soul? Yeah right. He ate gentle souls for breakfast. They were the pink ones.

Snatcher scowled, shaking his head as he lifted the cup to his lips, glancing away. Despite the soothing scent of tea, his stomach flipped.

Cat had the gall to snicker at his reaction.

“You girls should introduce him to Lia,” Cat projected to the whole table, grinning widely.

“Oh yeah!” Brie beamed but faltered at Snatcher’s expression. “Or… maybe some other time. We need to go to Tim’s first.”

“Whatever suits your sails,” Cat gave the siren’s shoulder a friendly squeeze and he nearly spilled his tea as he jerked away. “Oh, sorry. Poor thing, you must have been through something awful.”

He sneered at that but when the pity didn’t leave her expression, he looked away, curling into himself.

“I have to get back to work.” Cat waved gently as she turned to leave. “But y’all eat up and I hope to see you three again.” She emphasized _three_ and Snatcher ignored her, clinking his nails on the cup, irritated.

“Here, eat this!” Brie pushed over a croissant with what looked like chocolate oozing out of the ends.

“Since you like fruit, you must like sweet things, right?” Hattie lifted her own cookie to her mouth.

Taking his time to respond like always, he blew on the cup of steaming tea in his hand and took a small sip.

It was delightful. And a blend that he was quiet familiar with thanks to Catherine from long ago. The black tea was robust and held hits of floral flavors that brightened his senses and soothed him to his core. It tasted like a once upon a time when he would spend hours painting in the moonlight. It tasted like the festival days he would play his violin in the town square. It tasted like all of the things that once cheered his heart and it tasted like the moments he could laugh out loud without locking all who heard it into a trance. It tasted like home.

A home that was no longer his.

Overwhelmed, Snatcher placed the tea down, feeling the lump rise in his throat. To try and abate it, he took a bite of the croissant and focused more on devouring the buttery treat than savoring. If the girls sensed his mood change, they didn’t say anything, but they did hurry through the meal to take him to the bookstore as promised. They left behind plates licked clean, and one teacup still full.

*

Time’s End bookstore was more of an antique shop than a bookstore and the scent of musty dust permeated the area. Old items from the manor cluttered the spaces between bookshelves, like the spinning wheel, a couple kitchen utensils he recognized, or even an old stool. There were more antiques not hailing from the manor, of course, no doubt from other kingdoms across the sea. The mix of old and new books on the shelves were promising, too. Snatcher ignored the knickknacks and headed straight for the oldest section of books.

“Can I help you find anything?” Tim, the owner asked from the counter.

“Do you have books about sirens?” Hattie looked up innocently.

Snatcher flinched from her lack of tact.

Dreading the thought of anyone finding out he was siren, he had hoped to keep his research private. It wasn’t like he _couldn’t_ escape if the villagers knew what he was, he just didn’t want it to get to such extremes. And the girls were not subtle.

“Sirens? Let me see here,” Tim hummed, walking around the counter and ambling over to a shelf. Snatcher turned as Tim removed a large book that looked exactly like the one the prince had consulted one terrible night before being thrown into the sea. “Will this do?” Tim lowered the book to Hattie who hugged it to her chest.

“Yep! Thanks, Tim!” Within seconds, Hattie was by Snatcher’s side, holding out the book for him. “Will this work?”

While worn, the large book’s thick scarlet cover and gold printed title was instantly recognizable. Yes, this was it, the book he had been searching for in the manor every chance he got.

And now that it was right in front of him, he hesitated.

“If you need a place to read, young man, there’s a sitting area in the back.” Tim waved his hand dismissively in a vague direction.

His words snapped the siren out of his thoughts, and he took the book, dipping his head towards Hattie before heading towards the back.

There was an old armchair next to a smaller shelf with what appeared to be journals. Ceramics that were reminiscent of the dishes at Cat’s restaurant perched on top of the shelf and a set was neatly set up on the table in front of the chair for decoration. These pieces also seemed to be for sale and Snatcher imagined there must have been a local potter making them.

While Hattie and Brie wandered around, Snatcher reclined and read. The book only had a small chapter about sirens specifically. It warned against their voices, with no way to counter the enchantment. It listed potential powers a siren could have. It even talked about soul eating, and how the more souls a siren consumed, the more powerful they became. But it didn’t provide a solution to a too powerful siren.

Snatcher turned to the end of the chapter, having to cover a fanged yawn. Tim could be heard explaining different objects in the shop while Hattie and Brie asked about the treasures. Sleepy and losing focus, Snatcher vaguely remembered a time where he had fallen asleep in the middle of reading in the library, only to wake up with some of the village children playing around him. He almost cracked a smile at the memory, but the last section of the chapter crashed into him like a wave, alerting his senses awake while his chest tightened.

_The only way to reverse the curse is for the siren to be reunited with love._

Phantom feelings of ice started in his wrists and crept through his bones. Scowling, he scanned the rest of the section. But there was no further explanation, just recounts of lovesick idiots getting a happy ending with the person who broke their heart in the first place. _Great._ That was just _perfect._ He snapped the book shut and the clap echoed in the small reading space.

Tossing the book aside, he leaned back in the chair and rubbed his temples.

It was fine. It was _fine_. Sure, it would have instantly solved everyone’s problems if Vanessa wasn’t a siren with magic or a deadly voice anymore, but he had come to accept neither of them would ever break the curse long ago.

So why was he so angry?

Because the curse should have broken when he was thrown into the sea and captured by Vanessa. Either the book was lying or…

Or his love was never good enough to begin with.

“Snatcher,” Hattie’s voice snapped him out of the beginnings of a spiral, “I heard a noise are you okay?” Her gaze flickered to his stretched-out legs before she visibly relaxed. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

He pressed his hands together, tapping his fingers as he nodded.

“Want to come see the neat stuff Tim has?”

Not really. But before he could convey that, a tiny hand took his and yanked him to his feet. He shot her a glare and she smirked. Despite himself, he felt the tightness around his chest loosen.

But the ever-present lump in his throat remained, reminding him that beneath the surface, he was a soul-eating monster.

“A violin?” Brie bounced onto her toes as Hattie and Snatcher rounded the corner.

“Indeed, there’s a fascinating story behind this one,” Tim prattled as he removed the instrument from the case and held it out for Brie to see. Snatcher’s heart nearly stopped. “Would you like to hear it?”

“Yeah,” Hattie exclaimed, pulling Snatcher forward and nearly causing him to trip. He quickly righted himself as Hattie released his hand and ran up to the counter besides Brie. Tim smiled at Snatcher and tipped his head, as if inviting him to come closer.

“You see, this violin belonged to the prince,” Tim began, earning small gasps from the children while Snatcher clasped his hands tightly, as if using them as a shield against the past. “It was a violin that had been a gift from his brother.

“One stormy night, the prince’s study in the woods, where he often went to practice his music, paint, or study, caught aflame in a thunderstorm,” Tim continued, his blue eyes twinkling merrily. “The violin had been scorched and the strings snapped in the fire.”

“So then how’s it fixed?” Hattie tapped the neck of the violin while Snatcher dug his nails into his hand.

“Well, before the princess vanished, the people of the village loved the prince.”

Shuffling on his feet, Snatcher tried to ignore the bite of the story. Instead, his golden gaze was trained onto the golden etching on the side of the violin and the inlay of white and purple wooden flowers swirling along the words.

“They knew how much he loved the violin, since it was one of the only items he had from his homeland. Because of this, the carpenter and others worked together to restore the precious instrument for the prince. But, before they could give it to him, the princess disappeared, and the prince took the blame.”

“That’s so sad,” Brie sniffed.

“Young man,” Tim harkened, causing Snatcher to bristle. “I see the violin caught your attention. Do you play?”

“Do you?” Hattie demanded as she and Brie turned, pumping their fists excitedly.

He hesitated, taking in his audience before looking back to the violin. He… he had missed playing. Dearly. He wasn’t sure he remembered how to play; it had been so long. But also he was already planning how to steal it when Tim wasn’t looking—it was his of course, and looked sorely underused in the last century or so, and he wasn’t about to feel guilty for taking back the _last memento_ of his brother—and getting a chance to hold it would also give him a chance to run. He nodded, to answer the question, and stepped forward.

Tim handed him the violin and bow and they fit into Snatcher’s hands as easily as two puzzle pieces fit together. The girls cheered beside him and he straightened his back and tucked the violin into the crook of his neck and tested the strings.

They were horribly out of tune and while Tim winced and the girls whined from the screech, Snatcher smiled, excitement building.

It took a bit, but soon the siren had tuned the violin. His audience stared at him in awe and he ignored the way his chest tightened at the realization that it was an awe entirely their own. No magic held them captive as he fiddled around with music.

He paused once the violin was ready and he glanced at the girls, raising an eyebrow.

Hattie suggested a nursery rhyme about stars and Brie chimed in in agreement. He nodded and took a moment to remember how it went.

It was a simple song with a bouncy melody. He missed a few notes, but the girls sang along anyway, giggling and dancing in place. He finished with a flair and smirked as the girls clapped. He dipped into a dramatic bow.

“That certainly was impressive!” Tim beamed. “Actually, would you like to keep the violin?” He chuckled when Snatcher startled and added, “It would be a shame to keep the poor thing on a shelf. While it’s previous master can’t use it again, I’m sure it would feel secure with a musician like you.”

Dumbfounded, Snatcher lowered the violin. His eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“I mean it,” Tim promised, handing over the case, which Hattie grabbed when Snatcher left him hanging. “Play it well. In fact, it’s a lovely day out. The fountain by the square used to be home to many impromptu performances.”

Snatcher started to scowl, not appreciating the push to play for the villagers he didn’t even know. Surely, they wouldn’t be happy to have a siren playing the violin by the fountain.

“Come on,” Hattie shoved Snatcher towards the door, having already decided for him. “Let’s go!”

“What other songs do you know?” Brie asked as she followed them outside.

“Take care, you three!” Tim called, laughter in his voice.

Soon, the tired siren found himself in front of the fountain in the square, which was emptier now that it was later in the day. The children perched on the fountain’s edge, kicking their feet as they looked up at him with expectant eyes.

Snatcher shuffled under the weight of their staring. He wasn’t used to this. Usually his audience was under his spell and he was the one with all the control. But here? He was exceedingly overwhelmed. Why was he doing this again?

“What’s your favorite song?” Brie clasped her hands in her lap and tilted her head.

With a tight-lipped smile, Snatcher gave her a look. He was a siren. A monster. Why did the brats even care about his favorite song?

“You’re our BFF.” Hattie seemed to have read his mind. “We’re always telling you about our favorite things. Now you can tell us yours!” She gestured towards his violin, glancing at the etching pointedly.

His stomach flipped.

In a different life, he wouldn’t have hesitated. He had countless memories playing in the square during festivals or ordinary days. But… this…

“Just one song, pretty please?”

Caving, he exhaled before lifting the violin into position. The girls gasped, leaning forward. He bit his lip. At least no one else was around to watch.

Favorite song? Well, he wasn’t sure if it was his favorite, but it was the first one that popped into his mind.

Setting the tempo by tapping his foot, he closed his eyes to recall the chords and notes. He swallowed past the lump in his throat and glided the bow across the strings. A clean note stretched out like a gentle plea and he tugged another from the violin.

The music was soft and hesitant at first. He lightly bobbed in time to the music, taking pauses to breathe between the hums of the strummed notes. Giggling erupted before him, and he cracked an eye open as Hattie and Brie jumped off of the fountain and began dancing with each other. He couldn’t stop his smile, remembering all the times he had danced with his brother in a similar fashion.

Picking up speed and confidence, he put more of his weight into playing. He danced with the girls, bending and swaying more dramatically as he played. Clapping came from behind and he snapped around, eyes opening wide as he spotted Cat at the edge of the square, joining in and with a toothy grin.

He continued playing, the bow stretching across the strings as his fingertips on the neck of the violin trapped them against the wood. The girls leapt out into the square and began twirling erratically as their laughs joined with the cry of the strings.

Soon enough, more subconites came over to listen. Some clapped in time like Cat while others watched with quiet smiles. Hattie and Bow began pulling onlookers into the middle and the square became filled with dancers.

Snatcher watched in disbelief as life and merrymaking spun around him, gliding in sync with the gliding of his bow. With the song reaching its climax, Hattie and Brie returned to his side and he ended up kneeling down and swaying with them as he played, a genuine smile on his features.

He barely remembered to swallow his laughter. Luckily, he caught himself and channeled the mirth into the music. The violin squeaked with euphoria and the energy in the square spread. Nearing the end of the song, he straightened and spun, feeling the music connect his joy to others as they listened and feeling their joy connect with him through their dancing. Vibrant, the violin sounded sweet and whole. It sounded like a time he had thought he had put to rest for good in his heart.

Finally, the song slowed. Snatcher’s chest rose and fell with rapid breath. The dancing became subtle sways and bounces. The clapping faded. The last lyric from the violin stretched out. Quiet filled the square. Snatcher lowered the violin and shared a smile with Hattie and Brie.

The villagers cheered.

Jumping, Snatcher took in the audience. Gripping the neck of the violin, he pulled his arms inward as he turned, scanning the crowd. They were all happy but now that the music was no longer playing, he suddenly felt exposed.

Voices enclosed around him; praising his work, asking for an encore, or questioning where he came from. Flashes of memories of performing for crowds shifted into the image of a mob surrounding him. He felt cold, remembering hands gripping his biceps and ice chains cutting into his bruised wrists. The crowd moved closer and he took a step back.

“Snatcher?” Hattie and Brie watched as he backed away.

His chest felt tight. The lump in his throat was thick. He took one look at the girls reaching out in a sea of bodies. Growing ridges on his neck constricted his breath and his legs itched. He ran.

He didn’t stop running, following the path leaving the village, until he reached the beach. He gingerly set down his violin into the sand before throwing himself into the surf. Remembering to shed his pants before his legs melted into his tail, he tossed the soaked trousers and they thumped against the sand. Twisting in the water, he breathed with relief as salt washed over his gills and dark purple scales encased his legs, wrapping them into a tail with a lavender flipper curling out gently along with the fins on his arms and his ears.

Kicking out further away from the beach to kinder waves, he dunked his head under before resurfacing. He ran his hand through his bangs and pulled the ponytail with braids around his shoulder.

“Snatcher!” Brie came running down, alone, and stopped right beyond the reach of the curling waves. “What happened, did you run out of time?”

No. But it was easier to let her believe that was what happened, so he nodded.

“I’m sorry,” Brie cried, hugging herself as she dragged a foot through the sand. “We were just so excited to hang out with you on land, we weren’t thinking about whether it was hurting. Are you okay?”

Anxiously brushing his fingers through his hair, he nodded.

“Oh good,” Brie sighed. “Hattie will be here soon.” She walked over to his violin and cradled it and the bow in her arm while she grabbed his trousers with her other hand. “We can walk you back to your cove! And help carry stuff.”

He raised a questioning eyebrow.

“It’s what friends do, right?” She returned his look, like the answer was the most obvious thing in the world, why was he confused?

“Okay,” Hattie called, racing down the beach, hugging the violin case to her chest. “I told everyone he was heading back to the house in the forest and that he’s shy.” She was talking mostly to Brie but caught Snatcher’s exasperated huff.

He wasn’t shy!

“Well you are,” Hattie insisted. “You live all by yourself in a cave and get nervous around new people.”

His jaw dropped. He wanted so badly to retort but he bit his tongue and instead shot a venomous glare.

Though… he had just run away from a crowd of people. But that wasn’t the point!

“It was a really nice song,” Brie cut in, starting down the beach.

“Did you learn it when you were human?” Hattie skipped to Brie’s side and Snatcher started swimming forward, lazily swishing his tail to match their slower pace.

They continued to chatter about his violin skills and he mostly just listened. Occasionally they tried to discern what his favorite kind of music was and if he could tell them sometime or else they could just listen to what he played and see if they could find songs similar to his style. A few times, Snatcher cracked a smile at their prattling, but if they looked his way, he dipped his lips under the water and blew bubbles that not only worked to hide his gentle joy but also looked like he was blowing raspberries which annoyed them immensely and made him grin all the more.

Once the girls had put his things on the dry ledge in his cave and he had pulled himself up onto the ledge, pulling the braids out of his hair, they began their goodbyes.

“Thank you,” Hattie and Brie both said as they surprised him with a sudden hug. He stiffened, gripping his hair like it was a lifeline. They pulled away and waved. He raised a hand with webbed fingers and returned their wave. They beamed at this and promised to return tomorrow. He rolled his eyes and they laughed before scampering away.

The roll of the ocean lapping at his tail was the only sound echoing in the absence they left.

Sighing, Snatcher shook the ribbons from his hair. He scooted back, struggling with the weight of his tail and momentarily comparing it to the weightlessness of walking around on legs. Huffing, he swallowed such thoughts and tossed the ribbons towards the back of the cave with the rest of his treasures. Then, he reached for the violin and bow.

He turned the instrument over and traced the inlaid purpleheart wood that made up half of the decorative flowers. The golden words his brother had long ago said when he first began playing the violin were etched delicately into the wood between the sprinkling of flowers.

“ _That which sings like the voice of a human heart_ ,” Snatcher read in the barest whisper, his siren voice honeyed though hoarse. Swallowing past the lump, he lifted the violin into position.

With the prince’s heart, the siren sang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case you're curious, the song he plays in the square is the violin cover for the song "Faded" https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u6P2cs9FA2M . I'm particularly fond of the lyrics ;3c Anyway, thanks so much for reading! I am once again refusing to commit to a regular update schedule for this au but rest assured, it is always in my mind and heart so I do have future scenes planned. 
> 
> Let me know what you think and I hope you're having a great day!


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